Before the Morning Comes
by slightlysmall
Summary: A look into Molly and Arthur's lives together on May 2nd of various years, starting in 1968 as they get ready to graduate from Hogwarts and continuing until they are 100 years old in 2050. Rated T to be safe.
1. May 2, 1968

**May 2, 1968**

Molly Prewett made her way to the far side of the lake, where she knew Arthur would be waiting. There was a place near the water where the grass grew high, and only years of walking to it had pressed down a path and a small alcove to sit in. There, they could watch the calm water, look up to the school on the hilltop, see and not be seen. It had been their special spot since they started dating three years ago, and Molly was more than willing to join Arthur here now, with only a few weeks left in their education. N.E.W.T.-level exams were exhausting, and having a few moments to breathe in the evening air would definitely be good for her.

She had always been one to care about her education, but recently, her relationship with Arthur was beginning to mean even more to her. As she approached their secret spot, Arthur was sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, staring out across the lake, a glazed look in his eyes. He didn't seem to notice her presence, so she silently sat down beside him, and reached out to take his hand.

"Hello Mollywobbles," he said, smiling, then leaned over to give her a kiss.

She blushed like she always found herself blushing when he used his special nickname for her. "Hello, love. I didn't think you saw me coming."

"You think you could be that close to me without me noticing? Of course I knew you were near. I was just lost a in thought a little, thinking about what we'll do after graduation."

"Get married, you mean?" She asked, looking down at the ring she'd been wearing since Arthur's awkward proposal on the third of April, the cheap little makeshift ring her parents didn't know she had.

"Well, yes, that. But also our jobs, what we might do with our lives. I got an owl today from the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. They've offered me a job, as long as I get an Outstanding on my Muggle Studies N.E.W.T."

"You would work for the _Misuse_ of Muggle Artefacts department? Every other week you'd be raiding our flat!"

"See, that's the thing, Molly," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "If I work there, I can turn a blind eye to my own experiments, now can't I."

"Arthur Weasley! You wouldn't do such a thing!" She tried to sound harsh, but she was smiling.

"Molly, you know I'd love to work around Muggle artefacts all day. It would be the perfect job. Staying out of trouble is only a fringe benefit."

"If you're sure, love, I won't stop you from doing what you think is best. I'm thinking about accepting the position as an assistant at St. Mungo's, myself."

"You'd be wonderful at that," he agreed, putting an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, and kissing her hair. "We could get a flat in London, just like we wanted, and begin working this summer. I can't wait to start our lives together, live to be 100 with you at my side."

"A houseful of little girls to take care of..."

Arthur turned her in his arms so he could kiss her gently. "Don't get your hopes up, Mollywobbles. You know there hasn't been a girl born in my family for generations."

"You and I will break it, Arthur. I'm sure of it. I'm going to have a daughter." She hated the way her voice got sharp and staccato, but couldn't help it. She thought back to her family of brothers, to Arthur's brothers, to uncles and aunts-by-marriage, and all she wanted, more than anything except for being Arthur Weasley's wife, was to hold a daughter of her own in her arms.

"Well then, love, I guess we will have to do lots and lots of practicing."

He pulled her close and began to slowly kiss her nose, her cheek, her lips. As his lips reached her neck, she shivered against him. "Arthur, you gave me gooseflesh on my legs, doing that."

He reached up to kiss her again on the lips and their laughing combined with their passion. Alone in the tall grass, far from other people, the sun disappeared below the horizon and thoughts of the future were pushed aside by their present, pleasant lust.

**A/N: Written for the One Day Competition and the Harry Potter 10K Competition. My prompts for this chapter were "sun" and "lust." The characters belong to JK Rowling, whom I'm not. If you decide to favorite or story alert, leave a quick review- let me know why you like it!**


	2. May 2, 1970

**A/N: I'm not JK Rowling, and the characters you recognize belong to her. Thanks to my husband for Betaing this. For this chapter, my prompt was "London."**

**May 2, 1970**

"I'm really beginning to show, don't you think, Arthur?" Molly Weasley turned sideways in front of the mirror, pressing her shirt close to her belly and smiling at the roundness now present there.

Arthur came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "You are - and you look beautiful as always. Pregnancy suits you."

"Thank you. I hope that motherhood will suit me, too," she said, wandering back to the bedroom in their small London flat. As she changed into her robes for work, Arthur joined her, looking at her with the same spark that had been there since they were 14 and eyeing each other across the room during Charms.

"Molly, dear, you know there's no need to fish for compliments. You are going to be the best mother England has ever seen, and you know it."

"You are absolutely right, my dear," Molly said, over-exaggerating her arrogance, putting the finishing touches on her outfit, and preparing to Apparate to work. "I _will_ be a wonderful mother, won't I?"

Molly put her arms around her husband and gave him a long kiss. "And you will be a fantastic father, Mr. Weasley. Have a good day at work, love."

"You, too. See you for dinner tonight." Arthur gave her one quick peck on the cheek before they pulled apart from one another to Apparate.

Like always, there was a genuine smile on Molly's face as she worked, but it was with a heavy heart that she made her rounds, knowing the conversations she needed to have with her boss and, even worse, her husband. To say that Molly loved her job would be an understatement; she felt like she was made to work at St. Mungo's; her magic improved every day, as did her knowledge of the hospital and ability to calmly interact with her patients. She'd been promoted twice in as many years, and was inclined to believe that Madam Galen had plans for her to move up even further. If things were different, Molly would've been thrilled. But as it stood, there were two things that were even more important to her than her work as a Healer.

"Hello, Mr. Abbott," Molly said, looking down at the young man. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better, I think, but a little scratchy still."

"Ah, well, that's to be expected. Dragon Pox is a nasty disease, really. Surprises me it's still an issue, with some of the advances going on in potion making these days. But there are bound to be a few isolated cases. Pity it had to be you, though, isn't it." In the weeks that John Abbott had been in the hospital, Molly had taken a liking to the unassuming fourth year, and was glad to see the greenish tone of his skin fade nearly to normal, the pox scars becoming nearly nothing. It was with regret that she'd told him yesterday that he'd likely be in Hufflepuff robes in time to sit his exams.

"Mrs. Weasley! There you are!" Madam Galen's voice and personality filled the small room and Molly turned her attention away from her young patient. "I was wondering if you had a minute to spare. I'd like to talk to you for a moment."

"Certainly, Madam. Let me know if you need anything, John," she said, turning to follow her boss out of the room.

Once they were in Madam Galen's office, she took a seat at her desk and invited Molly to sit down across from her. She was never one to get straight to the point, and they chatted for several minutes about Arthur's job, Molly's pregnancy, Madam Galen's two children, a little bit of hospital gossip, before Madam Galen drew in a deep breath and, for once, paused before speaking. "Well, Molly, I want you to know that you have done an excellent job here, and we continue to be impressed with your skills and all that you bring to the hospital. And with that in mind, I wanted to talk to you about what your plans were for after your baby comes."

"Madam, I actually planned on talking to you about that today." _Deep breaths, Molly Prewett Weasley. Deep breaths. You're a Gryffindor. You can do this._ "See, I'm not sure who we'll have to help us take care of our child come October or November. Both of our families are busy, and with Arthur and I both working full time, we won't have anyone to help us." Molly could see understanding dawning in her boss's eyes, and it hurt her to watch the sparkle leave them. "I love my job, Madam Galen, and I can't imagine working anywhere else. But I have to do this. I wanted to give you a few months to find someone so I can help train as well. But I have to be the best mother I can be. Even if that involves a sacrifice."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Molly. I was hoping we could work something out."

"I'm sorry, too. And I don't think I could tell you just how much I will honestly miss being here."

Getting through the rest of her day was difficult, and for the first time in nearly two years, Molly found herself just going through the motions, waiting for evening to come. She dreaded the conversation she'd need to have with Arthur, and half-regretted not talking to him about her resignation before making it official, but she was sure Arthur would have tried to stop her. Since he loved his own job at least as much as she loved hers, he would know what she was giving up, and if anyone would be able to talk her out of it, he would. But this would be best; she was certain of it.

Like usual, Molly arrived home before Arthur, and busied herself in the kitchen making dinner. More than most days, she wished that Hogwarts offered a class in domestic magic, as she struggled to focus hard enough to keep the kitchen knives chopping vegetables while her pot of soup stirred itself in an unfortunately choppy motion. Cooking- with or without magic- was difficult, especially after a hard day at work and with how distracted she was, but she would be a mother soon, and domestic skills would be necessary. Plus, she was leaving the working world, not the wizarding world, and she intended to only get better at magic as time went on. So she stubbornly continued to prepare dinner, and very nearly got it right.

Arthur came home from work looking exhausted, and he was nothing but gracious for the small, simple meal his wife had prepared. As they ate, he chatted away about the raid he'd gone on that day, the humor he found in a kettle bewitched to whistle on the hour that had been inadvertently given to a charity shop, and his irritation at the amount of paperwork each raid required, but he stopped mid-sentence to say, "Molly? Is everything okay? You haven't said a word since we sat down. Is it the baby?"

"No, love, the baby's fine. I just have something I need to tell you."

"Well, out with it then. You know you can tell me anything."

She didn't speak right away, letting the words mix about inside her head, trying to decide on the best way to order them. Her silence seemed to aggravate him more, and he moved his chair from across their small table to next to her, put his arm around her, and seemed to silently will her to speak.

"I talked to Madam Galen today."

"How exciting! Are you up for another promotion?"

"No... she wanted to talk to me about my plans for after the baby is born."

"Oh, yes. I hadn't even thought about what you'd do then, head up in the sky as always I guess."

"It's okay, dear. I've been thinking about it for awhile, though. And I've asked Madam Galen to start looking for a replacement for me. I won't be staying at St. Mungo's, Arthur."

"But Molly! You're amazing at your job; I was sure you were on track to be the lead Healer before you turned 30!"

"I know that. And I would have loved the opportunity. But there are two things that mean more to me than St. Mungo's ever could: you and our baby. And I want to be around to see our baby take her first steps, learn to talk, and to read, homeschool her until she's ready for Hogwarts."

"You need to stop referring to our baby as a girl; you're setting yourself up for disappointment. I see what you mean, though. But I'm not making much at the Ministry; are you sure I can support three of us by myself?"

"Boy or girl, we'll figure it out. We have some money put aside from the past two years. Let's buy some land out in the country, build a house, have a place where our children can practice Quidditch and be away from the bustle of London. It will be worth it, Arthur. I promise it will be worth it."


	3. May 2, 1971

**A/N: I'm not JK Rowling, and the characters belong to her. Written for the "One Day" competition with the prompt "pictures," and for "The Middle of the Night Challenge."**

**May 2, 1971**

Molly only paid enough attention to the chiming of the hallway clock to note that it was midnight. She half-wondered if Arthur would notice that she hadn't gone to bed. It was doubtful; Molly hadn't slept properly since the birth of her son at the end of October. Tonight in her insomnia, she had photo albums spread out across the floor of their shabby living room, staring at picture after picture of a red-headed baby in blue blankets.

Of course she'd have a boy; everyone had told her that a natural-born Weasley girl was impossible. Her problem, of course, was that she hadn't lost hope. Right until she saw her baby with her own eyes, she believed she might be carrying a daughter inside of her. In the happy shouts of "It's a boy!" and her family gathered all around, she tried to pretend her tears were all from the pain of childbirth.

William was six months old now, and developing a personality. He was sitting up, interested in crawling, and often he would make her smile, but it felt like such a sad, almost reluctant, smile. Nights like tonight, she would nearly admit that she would gladly trade him for a daughter.

She set aside the albums full of pictures of her son, looked instead at the Weasley relatives waving to her in black and white. There was Arthur as a child and his brothers, another with all the Weasley cousins- boys and boys and boys. His father, his uncles and aunts-by-marriage, his grandfather and great-uncles and more and more boys all looked up at her with smiles on their faces, waving like everything was perfect. Arthur was right; her hope had only made things worse.

Molly wanted to take back so much of the last year or two- maybe not even try for children yet, or at least have kept her job in London. Someone was sure to have helped her with childcare; she hadn't asked around because she had truly _wanted_ to stay home and raise a baby. She could've kept working at St. Mungo's, sent her boy-child off to be cared for by someone else while she looked after the sick and hurting at the hospital; they could have had money to spare and kept their trendy flat in London, or hired help building the Burrow in the countryside. Maybe the walls would have been straighter, the floor plan more logical. Maybe the second floor wouldn't tip precariously off the back, and the staircase would lead effortlessly from one floor to the next. Maybe she would've actually liked it there. Every inch of their Burrow was held precariously together by the magic of two 21-year-olds and on nights like this one, she wasn't sure it would be enough.

The pounding rain on the roof nearly kept her from hearing the crying of her child, and she sighed, picked herself up off the floor, and climbed the stairs to his nursery. As she entered the room, his screams turned to whimpers, and he calmed as she picked him up from the crib. "Shh, William. It's just a storm. I'm right here and everything will be fine." Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself, walked back down the stairs with her child in her hands. Was it really such a burden to have him?

As he held tightly to her, cooing as she sang him a nursery song, her heart began to melt. Certainly she was being harsh, earlier. Maybe it wasn't so much that she hadn't wanted a boy; maybe it was more that she desperately wanted a girl. After all, she now had a child of her very own, with Arthur's hair and her nose and Arthur's mouth and her eyes, combining to make a face she loved. She sang and rocked, rocked and sang, the pictures lying forgotten on the floor in front of her. Caught up in the heavy eyelids and long eyelashes of her son, Molly didn't notice her husband walking in.

"He's beautiful," Arthur said, coming up behind Molly and wrapping his arms around her. "And you are a wonderful mother."

She sighed. "That's not true, Arthur. I mean, I try to take care of him the best I can, and I love him, but sometimes... sometimes I find myself wondering if I'd love him more if he were a girl." She felt ashamed, admitting that, and although she was sure he already knew, she feared his response just a little bit.

He waited, pulled up an armchair across from his wife, leaned forward, brushed a stray hair from her face. "There are two tragedies in life, love. One is not to get your heart's desire, but the other- the other is to get it. Maybe, if William had been a girl, you would love her exactly the same as you love him, and you'd still find yourself wide awake in the middle of the night and crying, wondering why you weren't happier with the daughter you'd always wanted."

"You're wise, Arthur. I sometimes forget that; I'm sorry."

"Well as long as you admit it now and then, love."

Molly found herself laughing, really laughing, for the first time in weeks, and William seemed to find it relaxing. He yawned, squirmed slightly in her arms, and his eyelids drooped into a restful sleep.

"Maybe we should put him back to bed; it's probably time I slept, myself," Molly said. "I don't think I've gotten enough sleep in more than six months."

A few minutes later, as they lay down in their small bed, curled up under the shabby quilt, Arthur rolled over to face Molly in the dark. "Mollywobbles, there's just one more thing."

"What's that?" she said, yawning.

"No one ever said we had to have just one child."

"That is a very good point," Molly said through a yawn, and with her husband's arms around her, she drifted off into a deep and comfortable sleep.


	4. May 2, 1978

**A/N: I still don't own the characters. My prompt for this round was "freckles." **

**May 2, 1978**

"Mum! Mum! Mum! Mum!"

"I'm in the kitchen, Charlie. What do you need?"

Her second-oldest boy came pattering in out of breath, calling to her long before he reached their kitchen. "Billy keeps saying that I'm only five, and that five-year-olds are babies. But I'm not a baby, right Mum? Percy's a baby still, and Fred and George are definitely babies, but I'm big like Billy, aren't I?"

Molly sighed and sat down on a stool, brought Charlie close to her legs. "Yes, Charlie, you're definitely big like Billy. And one day all your younger brothers will be big, too."

"But I'll be bigger, right?"

"Yes, you will be bigger for awhile yet." She smiled at him; his legs were stubby compared to those of Percy, and she was sure the toddler would have him outgrown by the time he was 12, despite their nearly 4-year age gap.

"Good. Mum, do I have to share a room with Billy forever? Sometimes his feet stink and it makes our whole room smell rotten."

She couldn't hide her laugh. "You'll get your own room soon enough I'm sure, dearie." Satisfied, he grinned and turned to run back outside to play. As he left, Molly noticed the dirt lightly coating his hand-me-down play clothes. Charlie was always up to something, that was for certain, and that something was usually very, very messy.

Maybe it was just that she was getting older, or that she had twin newborns to care for, but she looked back at her days at the busy hospital as a reprieve, nearly a vacation. Caring for ten to twenty patients a day was nothing at all compared to raising five healthy, active boys. Merlin's beard, where had the time gone? It felt like only yesterday that she was looking in the mirror at her growing belly, anticipating the arrival of her first child. And now she was approaching 30, the mother of five amazing red-headed children.

Something like a faint 'pop' came from the direction of the front door, and Molly's supposition was confirmed moments later when she heard a knock.

"Good afternoon! You must be Mr. Wainwright. How are you today?"

"Doin' well, Mrs. Weasley. Remind us what it is your plans are?"

"Well you see, I need another floor built for our house here. The oldest two are sharing a room and the twins are in our bedroom, and they certainly can't stay there forever. So we'd like to add a third story."

"All right. If you don't mind, I'm just gonna take a quick peek around, see what you've already done with the place."

"Not a problem. Would you like some tea or anything? I'll put the kettle on."

"If you're offerin', how about when I'm done with the tour, I'll take a cuppa while we chat."

He was back downstairs 15 minutes later, sitting on a stool in the kitchen and accepting the tea she offered him. "So you built this place yourself, did you?"

"Yes we did." She never liked the house much, but she was still proud, and sounded it.

"Well, to be honest, it shows. I really can't build upwards until we fix the issues in the first two floors."

"What will it cost to get it fixed and built properly?" She was tentative, nervous.

Wainwright began writing out some numbers on a piece of parchment and handed it over to her. "Merlin. It's all necessary?"

"Well, I guess we could give up some of the more cosmetic things, but without some serious fixing and a good deal of magic, I don't know if this will last much longer."

The front door slammed shut, and "Molly! Who do you have in our kitchen?"

"Uhm, hello, Arthur. Home early today, are you?" She couldn't look him in the eye.

"It was slow at work today, so I thought I'd come home early, spend some time with my family. Never would've expected to come home to another man in my kitchen, drinking my tea." It wasn't often that Arthur sounded irritated, but he certainly did just then.

"Arthur, meet Mr. Wainwright, an architect who works in Diagon Alley. I had him over to see about expanding the Burrow. Mr. Wainwright, this is my husband, Arthur."

The architect held out his hand. "A pleasure."

Arthur ignored his outstretched hand. "Will you give me a minute with my wife?"

"Sure thing."

The front door had barely clicked shut when Arthur turned to speak. "Molly, what was he doing here?"

"I just wanted to find out how much it would cost to have professionals fix our house- turn it into a real home," Molly said defensively.

Arthur sounded hurt. "We've lived here for eight years and you don't consider it a real home?"

"Can you blame me, Arthur? The boys have to wear shoes in the house to keep from getting splinters! Bill and Charlie are forbidden from wrestling in their room after the time that they fell through the floor into the kitchen. We have so many garden gnomes that I can hardly harvest half of what I plant, and Merlin knows we can't afford that. It's a damn good thing I learned duplication spells, or this family wouldn't have enough to eat on the pathetic excuse for a salary that you get tinkering around with Muggle filth!"

Her husband's face, a moment ago lit by the fire of an argument, dropped into a blank stare. In a moment, the words she spat at him without thinking came rushing back into her head. "Oh no, Arthur, I-"

"I get it, Molly. We've been married nearly 10 years and you finally tell me what you think." She could barely stand the look on his face as he stepped away from her and turned to walk out the door. "I had a surprise for you today, too."

"Really? What did you do?"

He just kept walking. She followed him, keeping the door from slamming in her face, and saw piles and piles of lumber on their front yard.

"Arthur, you bought all of this?"

He was still facing away from her as he spoke in nearly a monotone. "I got promoted to senior-level at work and it came with a bonus. I know we need more room for Fred and George, and how much we had left to do, so I took a half day today and went to Diagon Alley. Bought the wood and went to Flourish and Blotts for some books." Reaching into his briefcase, he rummaged around some and pulled out two new books, finally turning to face his wife to offer them to her.

"_Creating Your Dream Home with Lumber and Magic - Simple Spells for Anyone,_" Molly read. "_Architecture and Magic: The Latest Advancements in Building by Wand._ Arthur... why didn't you tell me? These are wonderful!" Turning her attention to a little ways down the hill, she noticed the contractor hanging about awkwardly. "Mr. Wainwright, please come here for a moment."

When he reached them, Molly said, "Thank you so much for your time today, but I don't think we'll be needing you. There's just one thing- do you mind if I keep the quote you wrote, with what we need to be up to code? We can pay you for it."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Weasley; it's yours. Have a good day, ma'am, sir."

"You too, thanks." She was beaming as she walked back to an unsuspecting Arthur and threw her arms around him. "Arthur Weasley, you never stop surprising me when I least expect it. I can't wait to get started on this project with you."

"Honestly, Molly? I thought you didn't trust my building skills."

"I don't trust the building skills _we_ had at 21, no. But we're older now, and far better at magic, if I do say so myself. I want to make the Burrow something we can really be proud of, and if we can do it ourselves, that is all the better. Will you forgive me for what I said, earlier? I just want a home that our boys can really live in, one that has room to grow... just in case."

"Of course I forgive you, dear," he said, leaning down to kiss her. Coming up for air, he added, "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"That tonight, before we sleep, you'll let me kiss every freckle on your body," he said, punctuating each word with a kiss on a different freckle on her face.

"I think we can agree to those terms," she said, kissing a freckle on his nose, wrapping her arms around his waist, and going back inside.


	5. May 2, 1980

**May 2, 1980**

Standing in her garden, an infant cradled in her arms, Molly Weasley turned to face her home. The upgrades and repairs had been finished since fall, and every day she fell more in love with their handiwork. It wasn't perfect, didn't rise out of the ground like the skyscrapers of London, but it suited them nicely. Finally, each of her boys had their own room- though Fred and George insisted on sharing- and Molly no longer worried about splinters or poor flooring or any other mishap that her curious children might get into. She was glad the twins decided to share a room, as it opened up a guest bedroom for family, and even if they tired of each other in a few years, there would be enough room for them to split up.

Looking up past the roof of the Burrow, Molly noted the grey clouds beginning to pile in. There would certainly be rain in a few hours, so she moved faster to take the laundry off the clothesline and folded it into a basket with the swish of her wand. Even so, Ronald slept soundly in the crook of her left elbow, a peaceful smile on his face.

"Looks like rain, doesn't it, Molly."

"Oh, hello Freya! I didn't hear you coming." Molly folded up the last of the laundry and turned to face her friend.

"I'm sorry; I do have the habit of walking rather quietly."

"It's not a problem. Would you like to come in? I'll put the kettle on."

"Certainly."

As she entered the door, the basket of laundry levitating beside her was sent to glide up the stairs to her own room, to be sorted later. As she lay Ronald in a bassinet and set to work with preparing tea, Molly couldn't help but smile to herself. Freya Lovegood had a fluid way about her, a presence that seemed neither here nor there and, in small doses, Molly found her to be exactly the reprieve she needed from her own chaotic and wonderful household. With the kettle on, Molly joined Freya at the table, talking about the weather, their husbands, Freya's wishes to have a child of her own soon. Their conversation danced cautiously around the edge of the war. Since the thought kept haunting her, Molly paused for a minute while she made the tea pour itself, bringing the teacups to land in front of them.

"Freya... I've been meaning to thank you and Xenophilius for the wonderful article in the Quibbler- the one about Marlene. He truly did her justice, you know, and I'm sure all her friends will be circulating the paper to read it. It just might take off, yet."

Freya smiled warmly, her entire face seeming to absorb the compliment. "Marlene was a good friend of mine, too; we felt we had to write the article. She deserved to be recognized in a way that the Daily Prophet wouldn't bother with."

"Right you are, Freya. Right you are."

They sipped their tea in silence, though Fred and George played at their feet, pounding the ground with spoons and babbling in a way their mother supposed was singing. Bill and Charlie came through, wielding sticks against a cloth and shouting about fighting dragons.

"Bill, why is that cloth levitating?"

"It was an accident, Mum! Honestly! But since it happened, we decided it was a dragon to fight."

Molly shook her head, amused. "If you say so, dear. Just be careful to only slay the dragon, and not the entire house, okay?"

"Okay, Mum!"

"Your boys are wonderful, Molly. They have such imaginations, such life. I think I would like a boy, one day. Although I would love it if the first were a girl." She paused for a moment, taking in the face of her neighbor. "You still want a girl, too."

It wasn't a question, and Molly wasn't quite sure how she knew this. They were friendly, certainly, but in a neighborly way. Freya wasn't the friend Molly went running to on the nights- now few and far between- when she felt a daughter-shaped hole in her heart. But despite that, Freya had an air of being trustworthy, and Molly sighed and let herself speak.

"Yes, I do still want a girl. It's strange, isn't it, how I can still be hoping after ten years and six children."

"Not really. After all, hope is always exactly as strong as we need it to be."

Molly nodded."I suppose you're right. After Bill was born, I felt I couldn't manage if my next child wasn't a girl. Sometimes I thought I didn't even want him, and I regret that now. He's so bright, has such a future ahead of him. I can feel it. But had you told me at twenty that I would be here ten years later, five more children and no girls in the house, I don't think I could have stood the idea. My hope only stretched as far as my next child, but when Charlie was born, my hope grew with him and I haven't lost hope yet, even though we decided we were done having children."

Freya nodded and smiled without responding. A few minutes later, she took one last sip of her tea and rose. "Thank you for the tea and conversation, Molly. But those clouds are looking ominous and I should get home before the rain hits." She leaned down to pat the twins' heads, then went out the kitchen door toward her own house without waiting for a goodbye.

Freya was a strange woman, certainly, and their short conversation haunted Molly throughout her day. While she was making dinner, Percy was at her heels like always, asking questions about anything and everything.

"Why are you chopping up carrots?"

"For dinner tonight, dear."

"But they're vegetables. Why do we have to eat vegetables?"

"Because they're good for you."

"Why can't things that are good for me taste like chocolate frogs?"

"That is a very good question, indeed, Percy."

"Do we have to have soup again? We have soup for dinner every night. Can't we have chocolate frogs for dinner? How many spiders do you think live in the backyard? When can I start doing magic like you?"

As Percy wasn't waiting for answers for his questions, Molly began to tune him out, concentrating on dinner, wondering when Arthur would be home, and hoping Ronald stayed asleep until dinner was finished.

"-Come Fred and George get to play with the baby and I don't? They're babies too!"

"What? Merlin's beard." Molly left the cooking to itself and bustled to the other side of the kitchen where Ronald's bassinet was.

"Fred! George! Get away from him! You _cannot_ play with the baby!" Somehow they had managed to drag a chair from nearby and they were both standing precariously on its edge, leaning over the cradle and poking the infant. The only time her twins were quiet was when they were up to something, and they hadn't been making a sound. She scooped one up in each arm, relieved that they'd done nothing worse than poke their brother, who still slept soundly, and set the twins down in the kitchen.

"Let the baby be! Sit here until dinner's ready." Exasperated, she went back to finishing dinner, thinking that she would rather watch all four of her other children than just these two any day. Another child would be a terrible idea- the thought that she could have another boy like these two was enough to unnerve her.

Dinner went surprisingly well, with Fred and George at opposite ends of the table, Fred watched by Bill and Charlie, and George by her side. The evening was smooth and passed quickly, and soon enough her six boys were in pyjamas in the living room, ready for a story before bedtime. Molly couldn't help but glance anxiously at the door, and was glad as Arthur walked in while Bill, Charlie, and Percy quietly debated which story they wanted to hear.

He walked into the room just as the three boys decided on _Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump_, and was greeted by a chorus of "Daddy!"s. The three eldest began overlapping accounts of their day, and Fred and George talked right along with them, their only distinguishable words being "Fred", "George," "bad," "ball," and "mine."

"All right, kids, I will listen to each of your days when I tuck you in for bed. It looks like your mum was just about to read you a story."

"Can you read it, Daddy? You do the voices best," Charlie said, and his brothers were quick to voice their agreement.

Arthur settled into the couch beside his wife, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ in hand. Bill and Charlie shared an overstuffed chair by the fireplace; Percy curled up into Molly's side on the couch; the twins lay on the floor,arms around each other; and Ronald was asleep in his bassinet. Arthur read dramatically, their boys enthralled as if they didn't already know the tale by heart. The story over, he gathered Bill and Charlie for bed. Percy half-opened his eyes to look up at his mother. "When do I get a baby sister?" he asked, closing his eyes and yawning as Molly picked him up to carry him to bed.

As she lay him down, she whispered to her already-sleeping child. "I can't promise you a sister, but maybe just one more child would be perfect."


	6. May 2, 1981

**May 2, 1981**

Molly Weasley was dancing. She spun around the guest bedroom with Celestina Warbeck blasting from the radio and she sang along loudly and off key. Her belly stuck out neatly from her dress and its roundness made her smile- she couldn't remember being this big at six months along except for with the twins, and that hardly counted. With only three months to go until her seventh child was born, Molly was in the process of converting the guest room into a proper nursery. Fred was dancing around the room, too, although at three years old, he seemed to have already developed a distaste for Molly's favorite singer. He was making up his own lyrics for each song, changing the words to something only he would find funny, but in her good mood, Molly was amused as well.

As the song ended and a radio announcer went on to talk, Fred looked around at the room, and turned to his mother with something like inquisitive disgust in his voice. "Mum, why is everything _pink_?!"

"Because, you'll soon have a little sister!"

"How do you know the baby in your belly is a girl?"

Molly wasn't sure how to answer that; it was just a feeling, really. She was carrying differently than before, her cravings different, her mood lighter. It seemed that her body screamed at her from the inside out that this one was the girl she's always wanted. "Because I'm a mum, and mummies know everything," she decided on, tousling Fred's strawberry blond hair and picking him up to give him a kiss.

After she set him down again, he said, "I guess so. But Mum, what if it _is _a boy?I think I'm going to have a little brother and he is going to hate this room and want a room that's green like my room. Or blue like Bill's. Even orange like Ron's room would be better."

"If it is a boy, then I can change the color with a wave of my wand, okay?"

Fred paused and looked down, his face scrunched in concentration. "Okay. I guess that will work. If it's a boy, can we name it Shamgar?"

"Shamgar? Really? What made you choose that name?"

"It's what George named his favourite gnome. It's a very good name."

"Perhaps. What is your second choice?"

"Maybe Anthony."

"Anthony is a good name, too. Did you have an idea for a girl name?" Molly was always amazed with the ideas and theories her twins came up with, and appreciated their creativity, even if she would never let her child be named by its mischievous three-year-old twin brothers.

"No, me and George said we didn't want a sister, so we aren't going to name it. If we don't name a sister, maybe you'll have to take it back."

"George and I," she corrected absentmindedly. "And if you don't decide on a name, it's okay, because Daddy and I already have one picked out."

"Will you tell it to me? I promise to keep it a secret from almost everyone!"

"No, I think we'll just let you know when she's born."

He sighed and looked around the room in defeat. "Cleaning is boring. I'm gonna go play with George, okay?"

"That's fine, dear. Just don't get into anything." Molly sighed, not sure why she even bothered- certainly by the time she finished painting this wall they would have made a mess out of _something_. Those twins had given her more practice than she would've liked at basic household spells and she could repair a vase two rooms away if she heard it crashing. But some things felt better done by hand, without magic, and it was by hand that she painted her daughter's room a pale pink.

"Oh Ginevra, I've waited so long for you." Finished with painting, she decided that _mostly_ by hand was good enough. She took out her wand to fix any sloppy work and, once satisfied with the quality of the paint job, allowed herself to survey the room. As a guest room, it had been finished with a simple double bed with a floral duvet, a small armoire, and a few of the better drawings by Bill, Charlie, and Percy had been framed on the walls. Now, a small bassinet sat in a corner by the window, a pink blanket inside of it, pink ribbons decorating the simple white wicker. For a moment, Molly absentmindedly wondered if she'd overdone the pink, but decided there was no way; her daughter deserved more than just Ron's hand-me-down bassinet in orange. Ginevra would have the pink room Molly had always wanted.

The front door closed and her children erupted in a chorus of "Dad!" Molly smiled as she waited for Arthur to make her way upstairs. He heard his greetings and loud kisses to the boys, followed by the thumping on the staircase. Arthur came into the new nursery and wrapped his arms around his pregnant wife the best he could. "Hello, Molly. How are you today?"

Instead of answering right away, she kissed him- a loud smack on the lips with a smile pressing against her cheeks. "I'm wonderful, love." She flicked her wand at the radio to turn it off and turned back to her husband. "What do you think of the baby's room?"

"Well... it's very pink."

"Of course- only a pink room will do for our daughter."

Arthur had yet to correct her this pregnancy; Molly was sure he felt it too. "I suppose so. By the way, I brought something home from the office today."

"Oh did you?" Molly said, keeping her tone even only from years of practice.

"Yes! From what I understand, it's one of the most useful Muggle objects so far- and I think I could make it work for us, too. Incidentally, it's also pink. Come downstairs and I'll show it to you!"

Nothing else lit up Arthur's eyes like Muggle inventions, and her curiosity won out over anything disapproving. With a shake of her head, she followed him out of the nursery. The object Arthur placed on the kitchen counter was small, and sure enough, it was a muted pink that nearly matched the color of the nursery.

"Well? What is it?"

"It's a felly-tone! Muggles use it to talk to one another, even when they're far away from each other! Muggles are absolute geniuses, really."

"But- why is it here?"

"I think I can make it work!"

"Granted, I know almost nothing about Muggle objects, but doesn't it need electricity or whatever you call it? And even if it did work, don't we need someone to talk _to_?"

"Ecceltricity and, well, yes. But maybe by the time I get it working Bill will make a Muggle-born friend at Hogwarts. From what I understand, Muggles love to talk on their felly-tones. Our kids could talk to each other even if their fireplace isn't hooked up to the Floo network! It's brilliant!"

"It's certainly one of the more interesting things you've brought home, love. I'm sure you'll have load of fun trying to make it work and who knows? Maybe one day we'll actually need it."


	7. May 2, 1998

**A/N: My prompt for this chapter was "memories." I'm not JK Rowling, but the dialogue in italics near the end belongs to her from Deathly Hallows. The italics near the beginning are just a flashback.**

**May 2, 1998**

The remnant of the Battle gathered into the courtyard at Hogwarts and stared at the procession of Death Eaters approaching them. In the silence of their footsteps, it was impossible to miss the noise of Hagrid's tears, and in his arms lay Harry Potter. Molly couldn't make out the words as Voldemort spoke to them, could barely concentrate on the exchange between Voldemort and Neville Longbottom- her eyes never left Hagrid, never left the boy she considered her son. Two sons, then, had died between last night's dinner and now. She looked out across the weary people surrounding her, thinking back to the news from only hours ago when all of her children were still alive.

"_Molly." A pause. "Molly, it's time to go. Fred just got hold of me."_

"_What was that Arthur?" Molly asked airily, peeling her eyes away from their family clock. She'd had the clock for 15 years and hated it since the first of September when Ginny's name moved from "Traveling" right back to "Mortal Peril" when she should have been arriving at Hogwarts. Since that happened, Molly refused to let the clock out of her sight, even insisting on bringing it to Auntie Muriel's when the time came to leave the Burrow._

"_I said, Fred just sent word that Harry, Ron, and Hermione are back at Hogwarts. We're fighting."_

"_It's time! Oh Merlin, it's time!" she said, dropping the clock and shattering it to pieces as she ran to hug her husband. With a quick swish of her wand, the clock repaired itself and hung itself on the wall. As she put on her traveling cloak, she said, "Are the others already there?"_

"_As far as I know."_

"_How are we getting in?"_

"_George said we're to Apparate directly into the Hog's Head. A passageway has opened up between there and Hogwarts somehow." He held out his hand to his wife. "Shall we?" She nodded, clasped her hand into hers, and they began to spin._

Had it really only been hours ago? So much had happened between now and then; her fight with Ginny, the preparation of Hogwarts for battle, the chaos as Death Eaters and creatures fought their way inside, the horror of watching the school begin to crumble. The people inside who crumbled with it.

People around her were moving, and she blindly followed them back into the Great Hall where the fighting continued. Molly threw a few half-hearted curses around, but couldn't bring herself to really duel- until she realized the way that Death Eaters were teaming up on the other children.

Something about watching Neville take on a Death Eater by himself reignited the fire inside of her, and her passion returned to her fighting. Harry was gone, Fred was gone, but so many more were alive, breathing, dueling with even more heart than they had just hours beforehand. Maybe there was something worth fighting for after all. She turned to the nearest Death Eater and began sending out curses.

Across the room, she saw Bellatrix dueling three students. Molly could see the bushy hair of Hermione, the long blonde hair of Luna, and in between them- Merlin, no. The Death Eater she was dueling fell to the ground with the impact of her curse, and she threw off her cloak as she ran. _"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"_

No, not her daughter. Not her _daughter_. Even as Molly heard Bellatrix's maniacal laughter, even as she yelled, _"OUT OF MY WAY!"_ to anyone in her path, her mind was racing through the memories of her only girl, the daughter she'd wanted more than anything.

She remembered holding her hands as she learned to walk, toddling around the living room of the Burrow. A little while later, Ginevra as a three-year-old approached her to let her know that she hated her name and wanted to be called Fred, like her brother. Molly remembered her depression and eventual acceptance of being called Ginny instead. Ginny declaring that she hated the color pink and insisted on having her room repainted yellow instead. Each memory seemed to be the fuel for another curse, and Molly's magic had never been stronger than it was in those moments.

Ginny playing dress up. Watching Ginny through the kitchen window as she snuck rides on her brothers' brooms. The way she asked over and over again to hear the story of Harry Potter. The look on her face when she first met him at King's Cross. The letters she sent home as a young girl at Hogwarts. The complaints from teachers about Bat Bogey Hexes being performed in the hallways between classes. The note from Slughorn that her exceptional magic had her a place in the Slug Club. The summer of confusion when celebrity crush turned to love. The fury in her eyes that she had been fighting with moments ago as she avenged the man she loved. With each memory, each flash of magic, Bellatrix's confident grin began to turn to a scowl. Out of the corner of her eye, Molly could see others approaching to help her.

"_No! Get back! Get _back! _She is mine!"_ No one was going to take her daughter away, and she had to see to that herself.

There seemed to be no one else in the room but Bellatrix as they continued to duel, and Molly knew each curse either of them sent was intended to kill. Molly remained in the present as Bellatrix began to taunt her. _"What will happen to your children when I've killed you? When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"_

"_You-will-never-touch-our-children-again!" _She punctuated each word with a curse. Seven words for her seven children. A curse for Bill, one for Charlie, one for Percy. The curse for Fred punctuated the word "touch" and Molly could barely contain herself as she sent her magic toward Bellatrix. A curse for George, one for Ron. She screamed the word "again!" and thought of Ginny as Bellatrix laughed. A flash of green light left her wand and it was with nearly hysterical triumph in her eyes that Molly watched the curse strike her chest.

Bellatrix barely hit the floor before Molly started running to her daughter. She was vaguely aware that Voldemort turned his attention to her, but didn't face him. Molly had to get to her baby girl. A Shield Charm rose to protect her and in the chaos of knowing that Ginny was safe, she almost thought it was Harry who cast it. But it didn't matter either way. Soon she was there, her arms squeezing Ginny closer, and against her chest she could feel her daughter's pounding heart and it overwhelmed her to know that it was still beating.


	8. May 2, 1999

**May 2, 1999**

Molly paced back and forth in the living room at the Burrow, wringing her hands and constantly sneaking glances at the fireplace. Arthur sat in his favorite armchair, a bemused expression on his face as he watched her. "I'm sure someone will get us when it's time, dear. They won't forget about you, so you may as well relax some."

"We're about to be grandparents and you can just sit there all calm? Bill could be here any minute!" Perhaps to prove her point, Molly's oldest son chose that moment to step through the fireplace. He looked flustered and a little nervous as he brushed the ashes off his robes. "Well?" she said, with no formal greeting, leaning towards him, eyes saturated with curiosity.

Bill smiled at her. "It's time. Fleur just got a room at St. Mungo's."

He'd barely finished speaking before Molly had her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. "Oh Bill, you're about to be a father!"

Arthur coughed in an attempt to get her attention. "Molly dear, perhaps we should Floo into St. Mungo's, rather than suffocating Bill in congratulations?"

"Oh. Yes, of course," she said, pulling away from her son and grabbing some Floo Powder from beside the fireplace. "St. Mungo's!"

As they stepped out into St. Mungo's, they were greeted by an older witch in Healer's robes. "Molly Weasley? It's been so long since I've seen you! And the last time, the circumstances were terrible as well."

Molly instinctively tightened her grip on Arthur's hand as she remembered sitting by his bedside, wondering if he was going to make it. She shuddered, but quickly composed herself. "Madam Galen," she said, "It has been too long. Thankfully, this time we're here under much happier circumstances. My oldest, Bill, is about to be a father! Bill, this is Madam Galen; she was my supervisor when I worked here before you were born."

"It's great to meet you, Bill, and congratulations! Though I must say it's a shame your mother decided to stay home to raise you. She was on track to be St. Mungo's best Healer."

Bill smiled and laughed quietly. "I believe it. She worked some wonders for us as kids." Turning to Molly, he continued. "I think we should get up to the room. Fleur's contractions were just starting when we left, but just in case..."

"Yes, of course, dear. Madam Galen, it was great to see you."

With one last smile, Molly followed her son out of reception and into a lift, stepping into a waiting room on the seventh floor. Bill left his parents in the already-crowded area and went to be with his wife.

The hours spent waiting went by slowly. Charlie, who was most used to being active, sat impatiently twiddling his thumbs, occasionally getting up to pace about the room. Percy tried to busy himself with a quill, working on a new paper for the Ministry and trying to look disinterested in the fact that he would soon be an uncle. George and Ron were in an animated discussion about who would finish top of the league in Quidditch.

"I don't know what you're talking about, George. Sure, Puddlemere's good, but have you seen the Cannons? They look better than they ever have! Surely they have a chance this year."

"You know what, you're right, Ron. The Cannons have done exceptionally well this season, and I would bet 10 Galleons to a stranger that they won't finish last by as many points as they did in '97."

Ron spent a moment in deep concentration. "But in '97 they were twenty points behind the next team."

"Exactly," George said, grinning. "This year I'm sure they won't lose by more than ten."

Chuckling, Molly turned her attention to Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, who were discussing details for Ginny and Harry's wedding, which was set for the eighteenth of September.

"We should have forest green and yellow for the colors. I think it would be beautiful in the fall."

"Ginny, you're only saying that because you just signed with the Harpies," Harry said impatiently.

"So what? It's my wedding."

"It's _our_ wedding," Harry corrected, "And I think we should do red and gold."

"You and your Gryffindor pride. We're out of Hogwarts, you know."

"Honestly you two, you should've had the colors picked out ages ago. Did either of you even read the schedule I created?" Ginny and Harry exchanged guilty looks. "Well, why don't you compromise?"

"With what, green and red? It's not Christmas," Ginny said.

"I was thinking forest green and gold," Hermione said. "Could you live with that, Harry?"

"I guess. As long as the wedding cake is shaped like a Snitch again. I loved the one your mum made for my birthday."

"And I'd be more than willing to make you another, Harry dear," Molly said.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

At that moment, Bill came down the hallway, sweating and looking nervous. "Bill? Is everyone all right? Fleur? The baby?"

"They're fine, Mum. Fleur just had the baby! It's a girl! And, considering the date of her birth, we've named her Victoire."

Everyone got up to surround him in hugs and congratulations, and underneath her celebration, Molly remembered the date. One year ago, she was standing amidst piles of rubble at Hogwarts, defending her daughter, losing her son. There would always be a hole inside her where Fred belonged, but now- now she had a granddaughter. As the chaos of family celebration died down some, Molly approached her son, surprisingly nervous. "Do you think Fleur would let me go see her?"

"Of course, Mum. We can go back there now." Molly followed her son along the familiar hallway of St. Mungo's and turned into Room 719. Fleur's hair was matted to her forehead, and for the first time in years of knowing her, she looked less than completely put together. But despite her obvious exhaustion, she was glowing as she looked at her daughter, who was cradled carefully in her arms.

"She ees beautiful, yes? She has ze red hair of ze Weasley family. But I think she has my eyes."

Fleur passed the newborn to her mother-in-law, and Molly held her with the expertise that came from raising seven children of her own. "Hello, Victoire," she said to the child, then looked at Fleur. "I've brought a present for her- but until she's old enough, will you look after it for me?"

"Of course I will," Fleur said earnestly. Molly handed back her granddaughter and fished through the pockets of her robe until her hand touched what she was looking for. Untangling the chain as she pulled it out, she presented her daughter-in-law with a small heart-shaped locket made of gold.

"Eet's wonderful, Mrs Weasley."

"Thank you. My mother gave it to me when I was young, and it seems fitting to give it to my first granddaughter. Daughters are such a blessing, Fleur. I'm sure she will make you and Bill very happy." Fleur was beaming by the time she finished speaking, and clasped the necklace tight in her fist. She swallowed and seemed to choke on whatever words she was trying to say. "I'll leave you and Bill alone now," Molly said, leaning down to kiss the soft hair of her granddaughter before returning to where her own husband and grown-up children were waiting.


	9. May 2, 2006

**A/N: I am not, never have been, and never will be J.K. Rowling. Anything you recognize belongs to her. In my head canon, Lily and Hugo are the youngest of all the cousins, so they are the only ones not born yet when this story takes place. My prompt for this chapter was "roses."**

**May 2, 2006**

Hermione and Ron were home from St. Mungo's, and they planned to stay at the Burrow for about a month while they adjusted to being parents. The past week had gone well and Molly was impressed with how quickly they adjusted to parenthood. Family members and friends were in and out of the house to visit the newest Weasley grandchild, and since it was Victoire's seventh birthday, most everyone was crowding the kitchen and the living room, excited to spend time with both the oldest and the youngest niece. Charlie couldn't get away from his work in Romania, but by dinner time, the rest of Molly's children and grandchildren were there.

Molly had spent the afternoon making a relatively simple dinner to feed her growing family, and it was with elation that she set the chicken and chips onto the table set for twenty. The children old enough to sit on their own had a table to themselves, while the adults and toddlers gathered around the long dining table set in the backyard. At any given time, three or four different threads of conversation weaved their way among the adults, talking over one another, jumping in to a different subject when so inclined, and there was no lack of generally friendly feelings as they talked. Hermione and Percy discussed reforms at the Ministry; George and Ron took it in turns to tell stories of their youth to their siblings-in-law; Bill and Fleur spoke mainly to one another, often in French, their tone completely loving.

As dinner ended, everyone's attention turned to the doors leading into the kitchen, which had just opened to reveal a cake floating out with seven sparkling candles. Victoire, who had just been bickering with her sister, stopped mid-word to stare at the gigantic pastry. "Grandma Molly, is that all for me?!" Her eyes lit with wonder as she asked.

"It's to celebrate you, dear, and you'll get to blow out the candles, but everyone will get to have a piece of cake."

"Okay, Grandma," Victoire said, clearly disappointed, though she perked up after all of her candles blew out at once and Molly cut her an overly generous piece to eat.

The sun went down and Molly's children set about getting their own children ready for bed. Ron and Hermione retired to their room, their sleeping daughter in hand. Molly sat down to enjoy the calm after the storm, her husband sitting nearby reading the Daily Prophet. She couldn't handle the stillness for long, and charmed her knitting to begin again; the problem with her growing family was how soon she had to begin working on their Christmas sweaters. While she supervised her knitting needles, she chatted quietly with Arthur.

"Mum?"

Surprised by the interruption, Molly's needles stopped their work and dropped into a chair as she turned to the doorway. Ginny stood there in pyjamas, bags under her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Hello dear. Is everything okay? Did you get Albus to sleep all right?"

"Yes; he's doing much better now. Harry and I have been getting far more sleep than we did in February and that's good."

"What's keeping you up so late tonight, then?"

"I was hoping to talk to you for a bit."

"Of course, Ginny! Come sit down; you can move the knitting."

She hesitated. "Actually, would you mind taking a walk through the garden?"

"Not at all," Molly said, smiling. She picked up a shawl from the kitchen as they moved outside and offered one to her daughter as well. For a few minutes they walked in silence, enjoying each other's company, appreciating the way Molly's roses shown in the moonlight.

They paused beside Molly's favorite rose bush and, eyes still focused on the flowers, Ginny began to speak. "Did you always want a daughter, even before Bill was born?"

Molly sighed. "Yes, I did."

Ginny took her time responding, seeming to contemplate the petals in front of her. "Were you ever mad that Bill and Charlie were boys?"

"Is this about Rose?"

"Will you please answer the question first?"

"Okay. In all honesty, yes. Every time someone said, 'It's a boy!' my heart broke because I wanted a daughter. And sometimes it was really hard for me, back in the early days, to appreciate my sons. But long before you were born, that changed. And I love every one of them so much and can't imagine life without them."

"Thanks, Mum." They walked on a little further before Ginny spoke again. "Yes, it's about Rose. It just doesn't seem fair that I wanted a girl so much and we had James, and then Albus, and Hermione was pregnant too, and then Rosie was born and- it just isn't fair. Hermione and Ron didn't care nearly as much as I did. Sometimes- Mum, I'm so sorry for thinking this, but sometimes I think to myself, 'I quit the Harpies for this? I quit living for this?' Isn't that terrible?"

"Ginny, dear, you don't stop living when you become a mother. Remember that, okay? Do you know what your father used to tell me on nights when I felt that way?"

"What?"

"He would pull me close late at night when I was crying and remind me that it was normal to feel like my life was over, that I might feel that same sense of incompleteness even if Bill had been a girl. But then he would kiss my hair and remind me that no one was mandating the number of children we had. Percy, the twins, Ron, and you were all 'maybe just one more.'"

"Mum!"

"Well, it's true, dear. And something to think on. Also, remember that every child is different, and James will never be 18 months old again. Remember to love him now." Molly pulled her daughter close to her and ran her hand along her back. "It's quite late now. Maybe we should go inside."

Ginny pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and began walking back towards the kitchen door. She went inside and began to climb the staircase, but stopped after a few steps and turned around to face Molly. "Oh, and Mum?"

"Yes?"

"I've always wanted to have three children," Ginny said, smiling, as she made her way up the stairs.


	10. May 2, 2050

**May 2, 2050**

"Molly?" Arthur asked, clasping the hands of the middle-aged woman at his bedside.

"No, Grandpa, it's Rosie," the woman replied, with more patience than Molly, who was standing in the doorway, could have managed. "Would you like Grandma to come and sit with you now?"

"Yes please."

Rose Malfoy got up from her chair and kissed Arthur's forehead before joining Molly at the threshold. She clasped her grandmother's hand and looked at her with pained eyes. "It's okay, Rose. You are so great with him."

"I'm going to miss him so much. He's been wonderful."

"I think everyone will miss him. He loves you, Rose."

"I love him, too. And you, Gran. Are you sure you're going to be okay? You look tired. I could stay with you if you'd like."

There was genuine worry on her face, but Molly smiled confidently. It didn't matter how she felt; she wanted the time to be with her husband alone. "I'm doing just fine. You don't have to worry about me, dear. I'll see you in the morning, okay?" Molly hugged her granddaughter tightly before walking into her bedroom to see her husband. She used a cane now, and her walking was more like hobbling as she made her way towards the chair that had been placed beside the bed for the last few weeks. Finally seated and short of breath, Molly took her husband's hand.

"I'm here, Arthur. I'm right here." He didn't answer, but squeezed her hand faintly. It was terribly ironic, Molly thought, that her husband who was so fascinated with Muggles would end up with one of their diseases. Dementia, they called it, and it wouldn't kill him. Instead, in the the last few years, things seemed to slip away slowly from his mind until he couldn't keep the names of his children straight, couldn't remember that he had grandchildren. But even as he asked when Fred would visit him, or confused one of Lily Luna's sons for Ron or Percy, Arthur never forgot his wife. The thought filled Molly with a sad sort of pride.

Despite the bustle of their family downstairs, Arthur's breathing evened and soon he was asleep. Molly stayed beside him, talking to him about the past. "Do you remember what it was like back in London? I loved our flat so much, trying to be so grown up when we were only eighteen. I remember the way you would get home from work and smile at me like it was the first time you ever saw me. You even ate the terrible dinners I used to make!" Molly knew that she was rambling, and she felt herself going half-mad at the way his breathing became scattered and shallow. "You kept me sane, Arthur, as I thought I would go mad for want of a daughter, and it was because you loved me that I could love our sons. Thank you so much for our sons," Molly said. "And Ginny. Ginevra was worth the wait, don't you think?" She chuckled and the smile reached her eyes.

Talking was taking too much effort, and Arthur wasn't awake to listen anyway, so she just sat and stayed. There were so many memories made in one hundred years of life. She knew she couldn't remember them all anymore, but the ones she kept were wonderful. The simple white dress she wore on her wedding day, the rate her heart was beating as she walked down a makeshift aisle to meet the love of her life. The morning sickness and realizing that she was pregnant for the first time, the anticipation of being a mother. Leaving the job she loved, the regret and then the joy of staying instead to watch her seven wonderful children grow up. The Battle of Hogwarts, where she lost her son far too young. The first and only time she killed another human being and how she never, not once, regretted it.

She remembered the birth of each of her twelve grandchildren, and the day Rose came to her, married less than a year, to say that she and Scorpius were expecting. Her youngest great-grandchild was only six months old, and Albus and his wife couldn't be prouder. Molly couldn't be more proud of them, either. There were twenty-five people in the world so far who existed simply because Arthur and Molly loved each other. But really, as much as Molly had wanted children and descendants and a legacy, there had really only been one dream that mattered, and it came true. She had lived to be 100 with Arthur at her side, and old age did nothing to decrease her love for him.

With some difficulty, Molly leaned forward to whisper into the ear of her sleeping husband. "There are two joys in life: not getting exactly what you wanted, and finding out that what you got was everything you needed." And as Arthur's breaths became slow and scattered, Molly lay down beside her husband of more than 80 years, placed her head against his chest, and quickly fell to sleep. Hands entwined, the rising and falling of both of their chests slowed and stopped altogether before the morning came.

**A/N: This chapter was shorter than I expected it to be, but I think I said everything I needed to. My prompt was "old" and with it, this story is complete. Now that it's over, those of you who have been following and not left a review, I would love it if you could drop me even a quick note to let me know what you thought of the whole story. Thanks to everyone who's followed this and made it a pleasure to write, and to Magic Doors for the challenge, structure, and pairing. (Also, I didn't morph into JKR during the process of writing this, and the characters are hers.)**


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